


Be My King Regardless

by TheLamplightDetective



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Nikolai, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLamplightDetective/pseuds/TheLamplightDetective
Summary: Nikolai smirked. ‘This is exactly why Ravka can’t have nice things, Nazyalensky.’ His face darkened. ‘They always get broken.’Her voice softened. ‘We all have to break, Nikolai, so we can see what we’re made of on the inside.’After his transformation, Nikolai is more injured than he lets on and refuses to be helped. This is the punishment he deserves, for hurting Zoya, for endangering Ravka, for all of it.Extended from the bell tower scene in Chapter 7 of King of Scars. Some hurt/comfort with a tiny fluffy suggestion of romance.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Be My King Regardless

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the bell tower scene in Chapter 7 of King of Scars. I haven’t read any further yet, and wrote this immediately after reading the chapter, so my apologies if anything is incorrect in the context of the whole book. The first line is taken by Leigh Bardugo, from page 129 of King of Scars, and “I am the monster and the monster is me” is also from the book.

The king of Ravka lay on the bell tower floor, golden hair dishevelled, boyish and bleeding. He remained unconscious as they hoisted him into the coach that Tamar has precured from the sleeping and unaware town. It wasn’t until they began their approach to the capital that he started to stir.  
  
‘Where did you find me?’ Nikolai murmured, struggling into a sitting position.  
  
‘Balakirev,’ replied Zoya.  
  
She saw Nikolai wince as the coach jerked beneath them. They hit a rock and Zoya’s own body jolted. She hissed in pain, her shoulder still remembering its recent removal from its socket.  
  
‘You’re hurt,’ croaked Nikolai, reaching out his trembling hands.  
  
‘It’s nothing,’ said Zoya, batting him away. ‘I’ll get it looked at once we’ve seen to you.’  
  
Nikolai turned his head from her. ‘I’m fine.’  
  
But Zoya had seen Tamar’s axes bury their silver heads in the creature, so she knew he was lying. It was dark in the coach, but the metallic scent of blood lingered in the air. She could hear the heavy hitch in his breathing, could see the stiff way he held himself.  
  
‘You’re bleeding,’ she said.  
  
‘No matter. I don’t think the shirt was going to make it anyway.’  
  
‘Let Tamar and Tolya help you.’  
  
‘They’re Heartrenders, not Healers, Zoya. I don’t want to lose my organs on the side of the road.'  
  
‘I’m sure they—'  
  
‘I told you, I don’t need anyone to heal me.’  
  
Realization dawned on Zoya and she narrowed her eyes, acidic fury hot on her tongue. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t you dare.’  
  
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Nikolai innocently. He glanced at her, tilting his head slightly in the shadows.  
  
‘Oh, please.’ Zoya rolled her eyes. ‘You think because you hurt me that you should sit here and suffer.’  
  
‘If I am to be a good king, I must learn to feel as my subjects feel.’ He beamed at her, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The normally keen hazel irises were dull and exhausted.  
  
Zoya tried to sit up straighter, tried to ignore the pain in her shoulder. She had successfully relocated it, but it still throbbed like Tolya was crushing the joint in his giant hands. But for Nikolai’s sake, she tried to quell the fierce ache. As they approached the palace, cold light filtered into the coach. She glanced at Nikolai’s side, saw the stain spreading across his shirt, saw the trickle of blood from his upper arm. ‘Nikolai,’ she said sternly.  
  
Nikolai didn’t reply. His mouth was set in a hard line. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Zoya’s stomach, a strange concoction of frustration and anxiety. _He’s exhausted. He needs to rest._  
  
The coach stopped and Tamar opened the door. Nikolai rose but then suddenly stopped, gripping the roof of the carriage with one hand, his eyes closed, his face pale.  
  
Zoya shot to her feet, biting her lip to prevent herself from reacting to the pain in her own body. ‘Nikolai—’ She reached out her good arm towards him, but Nikolai shook his head.  
  
‘I’m fine,’ he said but she heard the tremor in his voice, saw the sheen of sweat on his brow.  
  
‘Let’s just get him to his chambers,’ said Zoya, nodding to Tamar. ‘We can deal with everything there.’  
  
Nikolai arched a soft brow. ‘I’m still here, you know.’  
  
‘Oh, sorry.’ Zoya glared at him. ‘I assumed you had gone deaf since you don’t appear to be listening to anything I’m saying.’  
  
‘Last time I checked, that was a privilege I am awarded as your king.’  
  
Despite his teasing, he still needed assistance getting from the coach to his room. Tolya and Tamar remained silent, but Zoya didn’t miss the concerned looks they threw her every time Nikolai winced. When they reached his chambers, Zoya murmured for the twins to keep watch whilst she took care of their king.  
  
Inside, Nikolai eased himself down onto the bed, visibly in pain. His hand clutched at his side, his eyes closed as he hissed in a breath.  
  
‘Let me get a Healer,’ said Zoya.  
  
‘It’s a minor cut, there’s no need. Besides, it will only arouse suspicion.’  
  
Zoya stood in front of him. ‘You’re being ridiculous. You don’t need to punish yourself for what happened.’  
  
Nikolai opened his eyes and Zoya felt her heart lurch when she saw the dull sheen. ‘Is that not the case?’  
  
‘Of course not,’ she snapped. ‘You were hardly in control of your actions. You didn’t hurt me. The monster did.’  
  
‘I am the monster and the monster is me,’ muttered Nikolai darkly.  
  
She had never seen him like this before. So self-defeated. Gone was the glittering disposition, the easy demeanour. This new, unfamiliar Nikolai frightened her. So she did what she always did when she was frightened. She lashed out.  
  
‘Stop being so pathetic,’ she snapped. ‘Do you think you’re being righteous somehow, by wallowing in self-pity? You know this isn’t your fault. You’re a war hero, for Saint’s sake. Nobody blames you for this. You need to—’  
  
‘Get over myself?’ Nikolai lifted a brow. ‘If you find your king so pathetic, Zoya, then maybe you ought to find a better ruler to serve. I’m sure there are plenty of true Lantsovs out there to take my place.’  
  
‘You can’t be serious,’ Zoya hissed. ‘What is this? The Nikolai pity party? What else do you want to cry about? How Alina didn’t love you?’ The words escaped her before she had a chance to catch them and she saw the pain flash across his face, her comments hitting as deep as the wounds on his skin.  
  
‘Get out,’ said Nikolai quietly.  
  
‘Nikolai—’  
  
‘I said get out.’ His voice was edged with ice, but the shakiness left by his transformation still persisted beneath his anger.  
  
Zoya wanted to stay. She wanted to apologise, take back every word she’d just said. She wanted to tell him he was strong and brave and resilient in a way that she had never known anybody to be. But his mood was infectious. He was scared, she knew that, but if her king was scared, this beautiful, brilliant, broken king, then shouldn’t she be too?  
  
‘Fine.’ She drew herself up. ‘Sleep well.’  
  
She left him there, to bleed on his own.  
  
  
  
  
  
Zoya appeared at breakfast the next morning in impeccable form. She’d had a Healer tend to her injuries, she’d washed away her weariness with copious coffee and now she was headed to her meeting. The previous night still lingered in her memories but without the pain in her shoulder, she felt ready to face it. She would apologise to Nikolai, clear the air with him, and everything would go back to normal.  
  
Except Nikolai didn’t show for the meeting.  
  
The more the minutes ticked by, the more Zoya felt her sense of refreshment dwindle. She remembered the blood blooming across Nikolai’s shirt, the way it had pained him just to sit down.  
  
‘Excuse me,’ she said to everyone at the table. She rose and headed for the door, ignoring Genya’s questioning stare.  
  
Zoya marched to Nikolai’s chambers, where Tolya and Tamar were waiting outside.  
  
‘Have you seen him this morning?’ Zoya demanded.  
  
‘No,’ replied Tolya. ‘And he’s locked his door.’  
  
‘Then open it,’ snapped Zoya.  
  
They both clearly hesitated. ‘He’s the king,’ said Tolya.  
  
Zoya stared at them. ‘Have you ever known Nikolai to rise this late?’  
  
‘No,’ muttered Tamar.  
  
‘Then open the damn door.’  
  
It only took a few kicks from Tolya to break the lock and send the double doors crashing open. Zoya swept into the room, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded as she approached the bed. Two pillows had been thrown across the floor and the bedsheets were twisted, dangling off the edge of the mattress. Nikolai thrashed on the bed, his brow furrowed in pain, beads of sweat marking his pale skin.  
  
Zoya whipped around and pointed towards the door. ‘Go get a Healer. Now. And you.’ She pointed at Tolya. ‘Stand guard outside. Nobody else is to find out about this.’  
  
Tamar raced from the room, not needing to be told twice, and Tolya closed the door, posting himself outside. The doors rested awkwardly, damaged by the break-in.  
  
Zoya leant over Nikolai, trying to settle the fury that rose up inside her. _Why didn’t he listen to me?_ She caught his wrist as he writhed on the sheets. ‘Nikolai, wake up. It’s me.’  
  
He moaned and his eyelids fluttered. She could feel the heat on his skin, and she lifted her free hand, summoning a slight breeze to help cool his burning body.  
  
‘Zoya?’ His glassy eyes flickered open and found her face. His features contorted with pain. ‘Hurts,’ he gasped.  
  
Zoya saw that the sheets were awash with blood and she gingerly found a clean spot to sit on. She peeled away the sweat-soaked bedding, giving him air. ‘Tamar is coming with a Healer.’  
  
‘No,’ he protested weakly. ‘Nobody can know.’  
  
‘Don’t be stupid. We’ll come up with some excuse. Maybe one of your late-night parties got a little too wild. Maybe a mistress played a little too rough.’  
  
‘Your plan to cover this up,’ gasped Nikolai, ‘is to pretend my BDSM kink got out of hand?’  
  
‘It’s better than the truth.’  
  
Nikolai closed his eyes and sighed. A look of utter exhaustion crossed his face. ‘Of course it is.’  
  
Zoya tried to keep her tone light. ‘Maybe it will explain the chains as well.’ To her relief, Nikolai laughed, but then he hissed in pain and tried to curl in on his side.  
  
‘I’m sure I’ll become a much more attractive marriage prospect,’ he said hoarsely.  
  
Zoya sighed, reaching forward to brush his damp hair from his forehead. ‘We can say you tripped,’ she said. ‘That you fell off your horse. I’ll say I lost my temper and stabbed you, if you want.’  
  
‘A much more likely story,’ he murmured. He sighed. ‘If this gets out, I’m going to look weak. Ravka will look weak.’  
  
With a pang, Zoya remembered her words from the previous night. _Pathetic_. ‘You’re not weak,’ she said softly. ‘Not now, not ever.’  
  
‘I couldn’t stop the monster from hurting you. What chance do I stand with my country?’  
  
Zoya felt anger flare inside her, at the Darkling, at the monster, at every foolish, stupid person who might not understand Nikolai’s pain. This was a man who loved, no, _adored_ his country, who would cut open his heart, lie down and bleed for it if he had to. In the swell of the moment, Zoya thought she would burst with an alchemy of anger, and for a second she couldn’t even put into words how wrong he was about himself, how much she needed him to know he was a good king, a great king.  
  
She steeled her emotions and shifted closer. ‘What you have done for Ravka, what you have done for me, cannot be undone. Those accomplishments are yours, and yours alone. This monster cannot take them from you. You are the best thing that has happened to this country in a long time.’ _And the best thing to happen to me._ The thought came suddenly, but she swallowed it, leaving it unsaid.  
  
Nikolai smirked. ‘Which is exactly why Ravka can’t have nice things, Nazyalensky.’ His face darkened. ‘They always get broken.’  
  
Her voice softened. ‘We all have to break, Nikolai, so we can see what we’re made of on the inside.’  
  
‘Well, it’s most definitely not Lantsov blood.’  
  
Zoya glared at him.  
  
‘Sorry,’ he said and tried to turn towards her, but gritted his teeth as a lance of pain ripped through him. He was shaking, badly, and his skin was phantom-white.  
  
‘Easy,’ Zoya murmured, shifting back to give him space.  
  
‘All these Healers around,’ he muttered. ‘You forget what it’s like to be injured.’  
  
‘I seem to recall advising that you got yourself seen to last night.’  
  
For a moment, he didn’t reply. He took several, long, shaky breaths. Then he said, so quietly she almost didn’t catch it, ‘I deserve it, after what I did to you.’  
  
Zoya scoffed. ‘You fool.’ When Nikolai frowned at her, she took his hand in hers. ‘You think I’m afraid of you? Because I’m not. It doesn’t matter that you hurt me. You can maim me, break me, rip every limb from my body for all I care.’  
  
He glared at her. ‘Is this meant to be making me feel better?’  
  
Zoya tightened her grip on his hands. ‘I don’t care what you do to me, as long as you come back. The only thing that makes me afraid is the thought that you might forget that you are a good king, who fought for his right to be here, who _earned_ his right to be here.’ She leant closer. ‘And if the monster is part of you, then so be it. Be my monster king, if you must, but be my king regardless.’  
  
She felt his fingers clutch hers, saw the feverish gleam in his eyes. He seemed to struggle for a moment, with pain or emotion, she couldn’t tell. But then he sighed and brought her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against her knuckles. ‘I will,’ he murmured. ‘If you wish it so.’  
  
‘I did ask nicely.’  
  
‘Such a rarity for you.’ Nikolai’s eyes were closed, pain and exhaustion drawing tighter and tighter lines on his face. ‘I’m still sorry I hurt you.’  
  
She bent close and pressed her lips to forehead. ‘I know. But unfortunately for you, I forgive you.’ She let her mouth brush his ear. ‘Besides,’ she whispered. ‘I like it a little rough. And I heard a rumour that the king does too.’


End file.
